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QLFC Round: 13

Team: Ballycastle Bats

Position: Seeker

Prompt: Some real world history. The destruction of a vessel/aircraft.

Chapter Length: 1,335 words.

"So… you're dead?"

Harry was staring at what he supposed was a ghost. Silvery, transparent, and only he could see it. Him. Them. Whatever a ghost was called when they were dead. It wasn't like they were the actual person, so did ghosts even have genders?

Said ghost, who had introduced themself as 'John', was regarding the boy carefully.

They were dressed in incredibly old fashioned clothing. Or what Harry would consider to be old because he was just ten, but still. To be honest, Harry was appalled, and he didn't even have any sense of fashion.

"What can I do for you, John?"

"I need someone to hear my story," the ghost said, having already decided that they were going to go through with whatever they were planning, whether Harry agreed to it or not.

Harry decided that if he was having strange visions or odd dreams, then he should just let it all happen anyway. Fighting certainly wasn't going to help him in a time like this. Besides, ghosts couldn't die and they couldn't be stopped form going places because they floated through things, so if he didn't want to be stalked for a dead person, it was best to let them do as they pleased.

"Let me take you back to a time, where Muggles seemed to be a bit more aware of the strange things happening in the world.

"It was 1912, April fourteenth. I and my sister had confunded some Muggles into letting us aboard their massive ship. It was rumored to be the largest in the world after all. 'Unsinkable' they called it."

Harry was still caught up over what the bloody hell a 'muggle' was. But the ghost did not deem him worthy of knowing because they were just going on and on about this great boat.

"It was a beauty, I must admit. Sometimes the magicals don't understand just how much the Muggles are capable of. Even without magic of their own, they manage to craft such amazing structures, and this one had looked as if it would be unstoppable.

"They were wrong."

Harry wasn't sure if he was meant to be listening to the tale about the boat, or contemplating that fact that the ghost was talking about magic. As if magic was real. Uncle Vernon did not believe in such things and expressly forbade Harry from even thinking about it. He wouldn't even let Dudley read any 'fantasy' novels because they might 'infect his normal brain'.

And the ghost was still talking.

"The only way you'll truly understand the chaos that reigned that evening, is if you feel it yourself, lad."

Harry had been too busy considering the possibility of magic, to realise just what the ghost was planning until it was too late. Something cold washed over his skinny body and he shivered at the unexpected chill running down his spine.

'Just be patient, and let me show you,' the ghost's voice sounded in his head, loud and ringing.

Harry stumbled forward, and found the ground rushing toward his face.

The lights were bright.

He looked around, finding himself lying on a sofa, in a room far too nice to be anything that the Dursley's owned.

"John, come and see the water with me!"

Harry's head turned, without his permission, to see the face of a little girl in an old dress, bouncing beside the sofa. She looked ready to burst from excitement.

Harry's mouth opened - once again without his permission - and he responded in a voice that was not his own, "Calm down, Penelope. Give me a moment to right myself."

Harry's body rubbed its eyes and then stood. The boy resigned himself to the realisation that he was not in control of what was going on.

In fact, everything seemed strange. Grey and dark, almost as if something bad was going to happen. Or had happened.

Penelope tugged him out the door and he'd only just managed to grab a key on the way out.

The corridors were lavishly decorated and Harry was impressed. It was something that Aunt Petunia would be envious of.

A few minutes of walking had brought them to another corridor that was actually filled with people. Harry took note of how no one looked in their direction as they walked past. Almost as if no one could see them. Strange.

It was while they were on their way up a flight of stairs, that something shook the entire corridor, causing several people to tumble down the stairs or fall over the railing.

When the shaking stopped, Harry found that Penelope was missing from the stairs, in which he had been clinging to the railing. All around him were shocked murmurs and pained whinges of people. Everyone all shared the same bewildered look however.

Righting himself, Harry looked for the little girl, and found her at the bottom of the stairs, struggling to stand. She was crying.

He rushed to her side and withdrew a stick from his trouser pocket? What the bloody hell was a stick going to do in a time like this?

"Episkey!" he said, and the unnatural bend of the girl's nose righted itself instantly. She screamed and clutched her face in response to the action.

He shushed her quietly, looking around at the panicking people who were running up and down the corridor and yelling out questions and random insults as they tried to shove past one another.

"Come!" he ordered, lifting her into his arms and dashing past the growing horde of people as they fought to make it down the corridor.

A shrill alarm filled the entire area and a loud voice proceeded to demand that all 'first class passengers' make their way to the lifeboats.

Harry didn't fully understand what was going on, but he knew that people only fled to lifeboats if the boat was sinking.

He ran down grey corridors, and shoved past faceless people.

Harry broke through the open door and found people struggling on the deck, crying and screaming for any kind of salvation.

Penelope's arms around his neck were a harsh reminder of the situation at hand, and he pushed off.

"I'm scared!" she whimpered.

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't even know what should be said in a situation like this. The boat was actually tilting over!

"John, I'm sc-"

It went black.

Harry awoke suddenly, and found himself lying in the grass in the backyard of the Dursley's home. He sat up, gripping his chest in an attempt to slow the beating of his excited heart.

"Yes, it was terrible," a familiar voice said.

He looked over, finding 'John' the ghost, floating beside him.

"Our parents had always told us to stay safe and not go where we weren't allowed. They had forbade us to leave the house, but I had decided that we should go out anyway, and look at what happened.

"We died on the Titanic. My foolishness caused it."

Harry winced and realised that he had been forced to somehow view that ghost's memory of the incident. And it was terrible to consider.

"So many people died that night," said John. "Fortunately, we died first, before having to witness it all. A swift death was a mercy."

Placing a ghostly hand on Harry's head, John smiled. "Thank you for listening, little wizard. Death chose well."

John then faded from view, leaving Harry to stare at the tree that had been behind them.

All he could think was… 'Wizard?'.

A few months later, Harry found himself sitting on a train, ready to attend a magical school because he was a wizard.

His first order of business, was to find out if ghosts could possess people and make them see their memories.

And if they couldn't, what did that mean for him?

A/N: DONE!

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